Psyche
by zlydjia
Summary: There's a new shrink in town. One bent on uncovering the team's secrets. One with a few big secrets of her own. One that's going to crack open an old case and discover the truth. One that just might get a killer ready to silence her once and for all.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own anything….ANYTHING!!! Not Bones (sadly) or any of the characters…. However, I do own the plot… well most of it… and my OCs. I will not be very happy if you steal… Also this takes place in a sort of alternate universe. Why? Because I'm lazy… I really don't feel like researching or anything to make the forensics accurate, or the psychology accurate, or the FBI proceedings… and, the prologue takes place right after season 3, while the rest of the story happens during 5, the current season. **

I accepted my punishment with grace. It really was the best I could do, killing someone. A lifetime sentence to the mental hospital. Or at least until a psychiatrist could prove me sane. That first night was the hardest, all alone in the imposing room, but I didn't complain.

Pacing the room didn't do anything for me, so I slipped into bed and fell asleep.

_I was at a grassy hill, dotted with flowers. The breeze it was familiar and timeless but I recognized it from somewhere. That was the feel of the whole dream, fuzzy recognition, and it was on my mind but I couldn't figure out where it was from. A little girl, about five or six, came up and grabbed my hand pulling me up the hill. Her gingham dress rustled where it rubbed against my pants. For some reason I couldn't move and she ran up ahead. She was familiar too, with slightly wavy brown hair and eyes. _

"_Come on Zackarias, come on!" she called. I looked into her brown, wavy hair that reached to her waist, and warm chocolate eyes and I wanted to follow, but I couldn't. I longed to chase her up the hill and relish in the joy of childhood. Suddenly another person came running up behind me. He was a younger version of myself, the five year old me. They looked strikingly similar, same height, hair color. _

_The little girl was already at the crest of the hill and ran down singing, "You are my sunshine. My only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away." And for some reason I cried, knowing that I would never see that girl again._

She sat on the couch in front of the TV, eating cake and ice cream alone for her birthday. A knock was heard on the door, and she padded over. The hall way was empty, typical for 10:00 at night, except for the briefest flash of a stranger in green. Confused, she walked back into her apartment and settled down to watch the movie.

Just as the hero was about to kiss his girl, a stern newscaster interrupted the picture. "The FBI, in partnership with the Jeffersonian team has killed the current serial killer on the loose. This man has been murdering and eating members of secret societies, based on a twisted logic that has been passed from master to apprentice for hundreds of years. The FBI has been looking for this man for the past year, during which he killed at least three men. Sadly the Jeffersonian team received a shocking betrayal, as Dr. Zackary Addy was the mysterious apprentice who actually killed the man."

The TV went back to the movie, but the young woman couldn't watch. Her brown, wavy hair was mussed around her face as she clicked off the screen, and stared in astonishment. The full extent of the newscaster's words hit her with a shudder. He had killed, taken away a life like he used to take her cookies. The boy she had known wouldn't do that, and she started to cry. Fat droplets fell like diamonds off her face and onto the floor.

She turned, laying down on the sofa, and pushing her face into a pillow. Sobs wracked her body, shuddering through her chest as tears struggled to escape her eyes. Her last thoughts before she fell into a fitful sleep were, "What have you done Zackarias? What have you done?"


	2. The Begining

**A/N: To all of you lovely people who have read/ story alerted… thank you soooo much, I love the loyal Bones fans… but I would appreciate a review… an I like it, hate it, love it, ect. I know I shouldn't get mad because I'm not much of a reviewer either… -sheepish face- and I also would appreciate how readers want the story to progress… as of right now there are about five different ways the story could go…. and now on to the action…**

**I do not own anything, except for my OC's, and the plot sadly**

**I am also assuming you know all of the characters so there will be minimal descriptions of everyone except OCs because I'm not really good at descriptions… and want to get onto the action….**

********

I walked down the hallway of the FBI building, ready for a confrontation, prepared for anything. A kindly receptionist pointed me down the hallway to the office that was going to be mine. Unpacking the few memories I had of my life took little time, and I soon believed it was time to meet my partner. If you could call psychologists working together a partnership and I wouldn't. He was young, bright but very textbook. Too analytical. I felt people. I have a very good instinct and can know strangers better than myself sometimes. Moving out of the comfortable room I traversed the short distance between our offices.

"Hello, Dr Sweets. It's very nice to meet you," I said obviously intruding on some work.

"Who are you?" he asked, his young face becoming quizzical in an instant. I could tell he was analyzing me from the beginning, something that really got me irritated.

"Well, I'm Sara Harper, psychologist. The FBI feels you could learn some techniques from me," As I spoke he looked insulted. I continued, "I specialize in emotional reactions, manipulating them in a way. It's a little bit more subtle than traditional methods."

"Are you implying I don't have any skill? Because I'm one of the best."

"No, not at all. This would be a partnership. I help you with the emotional side of things, and you can help me to. I, personally, know that I'm not perfect," I really didn't want to sound conceited, but I have an uncanny knack for reading people. "Sometimes the technical side of things gets muddled. I'm no good with the technical side of things. But, it helps me relate."

Sweets, such a good nickname for him, was still confused. And he was bright. I normally could see exactly what to say to get the right response. "Ok," I started, "I will be working as a separate evaluator, coming to you appointments. Helping you learn some new methods. Give a fresh perspective. Got it?"

He got it now, I could tell. "For the purposes of evaluation could I ta-"

"Nope, sorry. You need to get reads quick. Here I'll leave and enter as a new person. Sweets, you get a read from one minute. Call me in when you ready." Spinning on my heel l left the office.

Now who should I pick…? I swept my shoulder length blonde hair into a pony tail, applied a little extra lip gloss and waited. "Come in," he called and I strode in swinging my hips a little too hard, and affecting a stuck up tone. I spoke, twisting my finger in my bangs and rubbing my stomach, "Well, my momma says…"

Suddenly I shot up, ripping out the hair tie. "So, Sweets, what have you got?"

"You were obviously young adult, rich and popular."

"And I'm coming to a shrink why? Did you catch that?" I asked him a little sharply.

He replied, "I'm not sure really. You obviously didn't think anything was wrong."

Mentally I sighed. "I'll give you a day; you should come up with something by then. On another hand, I do believe that an Agent Booth wants you for an interrogation. I'll watch from the room."

****

Damn this mirror! I couldn't get a good read on the wife. Apparently her husband's best friend was cheating on the wife's best friend with her cousin or something equally confusing. Then the husband died, in a freak accident that Dr. Brennen had actually classified as murder. Agent Booth only wanted to get information, there was evidence the attacker was at least six feet and the wife was only five. But there was that tickling feeling in my neck, the one that told me something was fishy.

"You're going about it the wrong way!" I exclaimed. "She needs a softer, gentle approach. You know what? I'm coming in there. I need to see her up close."

****

"How did you do that?" Sweets was pestering me with thousands of questions, mostly variations on how.

"Well I guess it's just my outstanding skill, and pure ability. That is what I want to show you. There was something in her eyes, a guilty conscience. Something." I couldn't reveal my secret. He would think I was crazy. I thought I was crazy half the time, with the weird intuition, and nights screaming in my room. And when I thought of him, and how he broke me. This was my life now. I was a new person, the best qualities from me, and some from someone else.

While I got lost in my little world, Sweets still was nipping at my heels. "You figured out she was cheating on her husband with the guy who was cheating on her best friend by looking into her eyes? No one is that good."

"I wouldn't be so sure," I replied, trying to stay perky, "looks like I am. Ok, did you figure out my persona from earlier? Your quick enough, you should have something." I felt a little bad for him, he was kind of cute, and I was being harsh. "Observe, remember, and trust your instinct is my motto."

A flash of recognition swept across his face. Had I said something to revealing? Then the look dissolved in less than a minute. I brushed it off as unimportant.

****

I got out of my car, parking next to Sweets in the lot. The Jeffersonian was a huge building, intimidating with all of its departments and brown brick. Walking through the entrance I was met with Dr. Camille Saroyan, the boss of the team. After quick introductions, as she was rushed, I had an uneasy feeling.

"Watch out for rugs," I had told her cryptically. I didn't understand why something would happen with a rug of all things, but it did add a sense of mystery. Sweets then led me to the main room, where the rest of the team was waiting.

There was something disturbing about the Medico-Legal lab. All the metal and plastic, the shiny cleanliness of it gave me shivers. But, he would like it. It fit the order of his mind and the logic. As I met the scientists, I was struck by the closeness, the family atmosphere. They were comfortable with each other, but there was something missing. Some pieces didn't fit together right; holes that couldn't be sewed together.

I could tell that I would like them, Hodgins with his conspiracy theories, crazy experiments and broken heart. Angela had an aversion to the gory details, art background and concerned nature. There was a gap, filled with rotating interns, left by Dr. Addy. The main focus of my instruction with Sweets, as little progress has been made. His case tugged at my heart; made me choke up as my eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"It's late," I said, "If there's not anything for me to do, I'd like to get home."

"No, I can take care of anything else."

As I got into my car, I noticed a blonde man, scruffy around the edges watching me. He was wearing a green vest, and stared noticing every detail. A drop of cold ran down my spine and his eyes never leaving the car.

I got home, changed, and then fell into a fitful sleep

****

After the first dream he remembered. Days spent, just lying looking at the clouds. They had through the grass, gathering flowers. She was the only one who understood him, the only non family that cared. That first dream prompted more, and more. Mostly they were pointless memories, but there was one that had left him gasping.

_It was dark. As usual his feet were stuck to the ground; he was only an observer. It had been a beautiful day before, but the dark clouds took over. She was wearing a dress, black and velvet. Her dark brown hair curled in ringlets down her back. His eight year old self this time was with her. He held her as she cried into his shoulder. Then his mother came and grabbed him, pulling him away. Men in dark suits pulled her, and carried her over their backs. She cried, he cried, his mother cried, and still she was taken away. _

****

**I know its kinda short… but I wanted to finish before Thanksgiving break.. Press the shiny green button to review?? **


	3. Dance With Me

**A/N: To you who alerted/ favorite/ reviewed THANK YOU!! It makes me think I'm a good writer, and loved... ah well, I would appreciate reviews... please? Pretty please? **

**I do not own Bones, only my character and the plot... –sigh-**

********

Every night for the past week I woke up screaming. My chest was raw, torn open with grief. My back was burnt in lines that I hadn't felt in ages. I couldn't remember the dream that burnt a hole in my chest. Without it, I couldn't stop it, couldn't figure out how or why. I couldn't stop the pain. And I didn't need the pain. I shouldn't feel that kind of pain again. It was bad enough the first time. I wasn't that person any more.

****

I pulled up to the FBI building, ready to test Sweets. By the end of this, if he wasn't sick of my exercises, maybe he wouldn't seem so childish.

The back of my neck prickled. My head spun, twisting behind me to see who was there. All I noticed was a blonde man, dressed in a janitorial jumpsuit, trailing behind me. That's odd. I thought the staff used an entrance near the basement.

Almost immediate after I had settled into my office, Sweets burst through the connecting doors. "Just remembered, I have a meeting with Zack at one."

"Zack?" I asked, feigning innocence. I knew all too well of the scientist who had been "taken over" by the insane serial killer, Gormagon. Mentally I shuddered, and my eyes began to glisten with half formed tears.

"Dr. Zackary Addy," he clarified. "He was in the notes I gave you, right?"

"Yeah, well I was planning on taking you out, so if we leave at eleven, then catch lunch after an hour or so? We'd have plenty of time to get to McKinley by quarter to one."

"Out? Where? "Sweets was clearly wondering what kind of field trip would help me analyze his skills.

I brushed it off as an exercise and continued sorting through my emails.

A few minutes later I knocked on his door, photos in hand. "Ready for your test?" I said. At the mention of test, his eyes lit up, eager to please.

"But, I have an appointment in," he checked his watch, "fifteen minutes."

"Did," I corrected. "Sandra told me the lady cancelled as I came across."

He sighed, as I pulled a chair across to the other side of the desk. I showed him the first picture, placing it on the desk and spinning it around until it was right side up for him.

"Ready for your profile, Doc." The photo showed a girl, about fifteen, on a bike. Several feet separated her from a group of three other girls. One had her head turned behind her, calling to the solitary traveler.

He sat for several minutes, hazel eyes probing the picture, absorbing every detail. Eventually he sighed again, I don't think I sighed that much, and looked up at me. "There's not a lot to go on," he said.

"Well, go on with what you've got. That's the point of the exercise," I said, impatient for him to show off.

"The group in front shows similar facial features, they're probably related. It looks like they're enjoying it. But the other girl, she's more depressed. She might be alienated from the group." His was hopeful, the last sentence rising in anticipation.

"Yes, but, why are you being so typical? Psychology isn't hard, solid fact. Its free form, floating. Art. There are hundreds of ways to interpret things, and you're taking the obvious one. That's the problem," I showed him what I saw, and I think he grasped it.

On and on we went, for almost two hours. Sweets got better, as we went on, and only missed about a quarter of the more obscure aspects. Much better than the others I tried it on, except for one. I stole a glance at my watch and jumped. "We need to go," at his curious glance I said, "Park. Meet me at my car in five."

Speakers? Check. Comfy shoes? Check. iPod? Check. Sweets? Not yet. Two minutes later he came, panting slightly, image of a puppy complete.

After a brief, silent, drive we came to a quiet park. I dragged my things out of the car, and next to a big oak. The leaves were just turning, and the park was covered in gold.

"What's that for?" he asked, head cocking to the side as he analyzed the contents of my bag.

"Dancing, you can learn a lot about a person by how the dance."

Normally, explanations make things clearer. Mine did not. His eyebrows furrowed, making a V above his eyes as he studied me stretching. "You know, you don't have to evaluate everything. Some things, sometimes, you just need to take a break. Don't be a shrink for an hour," I softened my tone. "Could you relax until we get to McKinley? Please?"

"Fine, but tell me what this has to do with me becoming a better psychologist?"

"Everything," I said. "And nothing, and something in between." Turning away from his puzzled expression, I played a piano piece and started dancing. As I twirled, I could feel my worries floating away. The lies disappeared. For that minute I was sure everything would work out.

"Hem, hem," Sweets coughed, shattering my peace.

"Oh. Right, sorry," I spluttered, flustered. "Here, come on." I grabbed his hand; put one on my waist, and holding the other. I counted out the beats, and led him in a simple pattern. He caught on surprisingly quickly, and soon stopped concentrating, and tried to have a conversation.

"Why are you different while your dancing?"

Damn, he'd caught on. My mind filtered through possible responses, trying to find one that was semi-truthful. "Well, I find it relaxing," I said. Keeping up my appearances took its toll. He was only partially sated though. He was expecting a full response. Sweets was better than I gave him credit for. I wanted to make him figure it out himself; I could see how long I could conceal it.

"We should get going if we want lunch," he said after checking his watch.

As much as the park soothed me, I knew we had to go. I steeled myself for what was coming. She was bubbling at the surface, waiting to come out. He would just provoke her.

****

I shuddered, the dank, cold walls of McKinley pressing down on all sides. Her voice whispered through my mind. _You should be here_, it said. _You're crazier than he is._ It sighed, if a voice in your head could. The last sentence floated down, meeting a knot that rose in my chest. I paused and took a few breaths, hoping my mask could stay on.

I took a seat across from him. I didn't place any files on the table, instead the speaker was laid between us.

"Zack," Sweets said. I cringed. It was easier to pretend without names. "This is Dr. Sara Harper, my assis-"he paused as a glared at him. "Associate."

I reached the void between us to grasp his hand. The black gloves still made me flinch, even though the explosion was scattered through the files. His hand was knotted and scarred under the thin fabric.

"Nice to meet you," I said, thinking how wrong the statement sounded. Those eyes were almost the same shade as mine, without the green contacts. His floppy hair was flat and stringy with confinement but, it was close to the shade of my roots. His face was familiar, but different than the one I remembered.

Zack's eyes probed me, analyzing and calculating. I met his gaze and I felt something.

He was innocent.

His brown eyes were pleading. Sweets' notes for me danced around the topic; huge chunks were blacked out. They went on at an impasse, and I was going to break it. I couldn't just sit there, talking about everything they've beaten to death. I was taking him in a new direction.

"Okay, let's get started."

I fiddled with my iPod, trying to find the right song. One that said what I wanted it to, but subtly. I hoped. _When I'm With You_, by Faber Drive seemed to fit the bill; it was slow enough for classic slow dancing.

I grabbed Zack's waist, and slowly started swaying back and forth. He didn't resist, never had; Zack was not a leader, part of the reason he got swept in by Gormagon.

_When I'm with you  
I'll make every second count  
'Cause I miss you, whenever you're not around_

I didn't know if I could do this. It made my heart hurt too much. All the memories came rushing back, being in his arms. She pounded through my barriers, wanting a touch, a hug.

_Whatever it takes  
I'm not gonna break the promise I made_

If only I could. If only he could.

****

The body was grisly, face chewed off, bones missing or sticking out at odd angles. The only possible identifying marking was a sliver locket, clenched in its hand, the only part of the body not mangled.

When it reached the Jeffersonian, the locket was cracked open. Inside was bare, but symbols were engraved inside. Ornate initials, MTI, and a picture of a trench. Around the edges, etched in beautiful calligraphy was the message:

_If this is just a part I portray, I don't know how it got this way…_

****

**Heehee, cliff hanger! Review? Isn't that button just calling your name? **


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